Dinner and a Murder
by Agent ZephyrRowan MacAllister
Summary: An Agatha Christie style murder mystery, set post-Hogwarts. Harry and Cho Potter decide to have a little dinner party for friends and one old enemy. Seems harmless, eh? But things are not what they seem, and someone will end up dead because of it... HP/CC


Title: Dinner and a Murder  
Author name: Rowan MacAllister  
Author email: agentzephyr@hotmail.com  
Category: Mystery  
Sub Category: Romance  
Keywords: murder whodunit post-Hogwarts  
Spoilers: CoS  
Rating: PG-13 for murder and language? I'm not good at rating things.  
Disclaimer: Only the plot is mine. The characters belong to J.K Rowling. If they were mine, I would be in bed with Snape rather than writing this stupid fanfic.  
Summary: An Agatha Christie style murder mystery, set post-Hogwarts. Harry and Cho Potter decide to have a little dinner party for friends and one old enemy. Seems harmless, eh? But things are not what they seem, and one person will end up dead because of it... HP/CC. There will be other ships later on, but to list them would give everything away, wouldn't it?  
  
Part one: The guests arrive, and the tension begins...  
  
Author's notes: Thanks go to Agatha Christie for inspiration and Cassandra Claire for making me the idea of a redeemed Draco seem less out of character. In the past, I've been more of a "drink lots of coffee and slam out a crazy humor fic" type of person, so let's hope that this attempt at a more serious fic doesn't go completely awry.  
  
Necessary history: This is set about 5 years after Harry and Co. graduate from Hogwarts. Harry defeated Voldemort in a terrific battle during seventh year. He married Cho (who is rich and beautiful) a few years later. Draco Malfoy defected to the side of good several months before the battle and is now a hero. Ginny is shy and has trouble relating to people after the events of her first year. She had trouble finding work, so Harry hired her as his secretary. Hermione heads the Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry. Ron is still pretty poor, with a boring, dead-end job.   
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Part One: Arrivals  
  
Harry Potter stood in entry hall to his manor home, waiting for his guests to apparate in. He seemed a bit out of place in both the extravagant marble hall and his expensive black dress robes, with his tousled hair and boyish face. He looked more suited for a rough game of Quidditch and a trip to the pub than all of the decadence and snobbery. He had learned to play the part of the high-society man quite well in front of others, but he changed back into the Harry Potter that snuck about Hogwarts and played tricks on teachers when he was left alone. He seemed lost in a dream about simpler days, standing in that hall that didn't quite fit him.  
  
He quickly fell back into his role as two people appeared before him with a small pop. A practiced smile spread over his features as he recognized the two redheads. Ron Weasley, clad in bargain-basement dress robes ("Probably from the Wizard's Wearhouse," Harry thought. "How horridly tacky."), clapped his friend into a manly hug. The two exchanged warm greetings that had a faint air of falsehood. Mentally, they had grown apart a bit since their Hogwarts days; verbally, each remained a staunch supporter of the other. Then Harry turned to the other arrival.  
  
He was used to seeing Ginny in plain office robes, her flaming hair pulled out of her face, and her eyes hidden by reading glasses. After all, secretaries were supposed to look professional and nondescript. That night, however, she had dressed to the occasion. She was lit-up like a candle flame in cowl-necked gold dress robes, her wavy hair streaming down her back, a shy smile on her face.  
  
"You look nice, Ginny," Harry said, smiling indulgently at her.  
  
Ginny turned scarlet and mumbled a thank you, ducking her head.  
  
"Still fancies you a bit," Ron remarked to Harry, low enough so that his sister couldn't hear.  
  
"Nonsense," Harry snorted, also quietly. "She's like a sister to me. I am her employer and friend. Nothing more."  
  
"Nonsense yourself," Ron replied. "She's smitten. And you a married man."  
  
Further argument was prevented by another apparition. Hermione Granger had appeared, clad in practical black robes with her hair done up in a bun. Ron drew himself up and straightened his cheap robes.  
  
"Terribly sorry if I'm late," she said, dusting off her spotless robes. "I had to stay late at the office. Didn't even have time to change, imagine that! I look dreadful. But I'm here, and I'm afraid that's the best I can do."  
  
"That will do fine," Harry laughed, giving her a small hug. "And you aren't late, you're a bit early. We're still waiting on...one person. And of course, my dear wife is taking her sweet time to get ready."  
  
"Some of us don't have enough free time to do so," Hermione sniffed.  
  
Harry went back to his nervous waiting as Hermione went to greet Ron and Ginny. He was about to show them all into the parlor and say to hell with the last guest when there was another pop. Harry sighed.  
  
Draco Malfoy stood before them, his stance so perfectly posed that it was obviously for dramatic effect. His clothes had that look of decadent simplicity that practically screams, "I paid more for my sleeve than you earned all last year." The robes were black with a little silver embroidery in spots, just for effect. His cloak, also black with a silver clasp, streamed out behind him a bit as he reached up to tuck a strand of silver-blond hair behind his ear. Then he smiled, the smile that had been known to cause sudden swooning fits in witches of all ages, and held out his hand to Harry.  
  
"Potter," he said, his tone suggesting warmth but containing none. "How nice of you to finally invite me to one of your little soirees. I'm sure that it will be quite...charming."  
  
Harry took the proffered hand and shook it.  
  
"I'm just pleased that you could take time out of your busy social schedule to join us," Harry said, not sounding pleased at all. "Especially since this is just a simple dinner party, and you have so many important balls to attend."  
  
"For our hero and his lovely wife," Draco replied, "I always have time." He looked around at the others, projecting a feeling of disdain without losing his practiced smile. "But where is the enchanting Mrs. Potter? There are only Weasleys and Muggle-borns here, no one of her caliber. Are there to be no interesting guests?"  
  
"Cho is getting ready," Harry said coldly. "As for other guests, Cho invited the Boots and the Patil twins, but they were unable to attend. I'm afraid it will be just the six of us."  
  
"I see," Draco replied. "How...quaint."  
  
Harry took an angry step forward, ready to throw the other man out.  
  
"My goodness, is everyone here already?" a voice asked from the top of the stairs.  
  
Everyone turned to look at Cho Potter. She posed at the head of the staircase for a moment, aware that she looked absolutely gorgeous. She wore a red silk kimono worked with golden embroidered dragons, and not a hair of her shiny black tresses was out of place. Then she began her slow, graceful descent. A genuine smile spread across Harry's face as he walked over to meet her. He gave her a kiss on the cheek when she reached the bottom stair.  
  
"Cho, darling, did we really have to invite him?" he whispered, lingering a moment.  
  
"Of course, Harry," she replied, just as quietly. "You simply can't have a proper party without Draco Malfoy."  
  
Harry sighed and released her. She turned with a smile and began greeting the other guests warmly. Harry watched her in silent admiration.  
  
"Ginny, you look simply divine! You should dress up more often! Hard day at the office, Hermione? I do hope we aren't interrupting anything important. Ron, it's wonderful to see you again. You really should come by more often. Mr. Malfoy, we're so glad that you could attend our little party."  
  
"The pleasure is all mine, my dear," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.  
  
Harry took a step closer to Cho, defensively, and slipped his arm around her waist.  
  
"Now that we're all here," he said, a bit more loudly than necessary, "perhaps we should move someplace more comfortable. The parlor, perhaps? Unless..."  
  
He was interrupted by the entrance of his butler, who announced:  
  
"Dinner is served, sir."  
  
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Please review...  
  
Also, I feel obliged to tell you that I have a horrible track record for finishing stories, so you may never see the end of this. Sorry! Pelt me with owls if I haven't updated for a while, and I'll try to write again. 


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